Born That Way
by peppymint
Summary: A nonslash version of Rougemoon's story "Right Kind of Sinner." For those who like Sinister and Remy but not that way. Written with authors permission.


_The x-men are not mine, nor is this idea_

_It belongs to Roguemoon, whose stories have _

_quickly become one of the delights of my life_

**Born That Way**

Icy rain poured down in torrents. Thunder boomed while lightning flashed across the sky. The lone man was oblivious though, not even ackwowledging the woman who yelled at him over the fury of the storm. In all honesty, he couldn't even feel it.

"Answer me Sinister!" the weather witch's voice held a curious mix of grief and hope. "Do you have him? Is Remy alive?"

The figure spared her not a single glance as he turned, disappearing into a tesseract. From behind him came a dreadful cry of despair, torn from the woman's throat. In all honesty however, that could have just been his imagination.

Once he was alone, the man's lips twisted into an expression that was decidedly out of place on Mr. Sinister's lips. "Sorry Stormy," he whispered as he removed the image inducer from his wrist. Remy had hated leaving her like that. Hated letting her continue to think he was dead, but he just couldn't face her, not now.

The grave had been just as Essex had said it was, a simple granite stone hidden away in the back gardens. The only ornamentation had been a single ornate X, enclosed within a circle. Gambit had served as a member of the X-men for years, risked his life countless times, and they hadn't even managed to put his name on his fucking tombstone. He supposed it was true what they said, out of sight, out of mind. His former teammates had certainly taken the age old addendum to heart.

Really, the only thing to show the grave was even his was a single card, the Queen of Hearts. It was held in place by a rock so as to keep the wind from blowing it away, and wasn't that a lovely tribute. Sorry for leaving you to freeze to death sugar, but I'll make up for it by leaving this at your graveside as tribute to you. Non, Remy thought to himself. Not good enough.

Sinister had been beyond angry when he described the place. The only time Remy could recall him being more furious was after Creed slashed him up in the Morlock Tunnels. He never had found out what the other had done to Sabertooth after the fact, but he knew it hadn't been pleasant. Evidently, the only thing that had stopped the scientist from destroying the stone immediately was the belief that Gambit would want to see it for himself. He had been right of course.

Remy had asked (demanded) the use of the image inducer and set off almost at once. Now he almost wished he hadn't. He felt so numb; he could feel the burning behind his demonic eyes as tears threatened to escape. But Gambit did not cry.

He hadn't cried when the Antiquary had drained him week after week. He hadn't cried those cold hard nights on the streets of New Orleans. Not a tear had escaped his eyes when his cousin died, the same with Genevieve, and his brother Henri. Remy hadn't even cried the day he was exiled from his home. It just wasn't in his nature. It is not like tears changed anything anyhow.

What he needed, Remy decided, was a distraction. Spend a night out on the town, in Paris maybe, he had always liked Paris. Finding a high stakes Poker Game in one of the gambling towns had serious appeal as well. Pick up some belle femmes to finish off the evening. First though, he needed to return the image inducer, and get some new clothes. He was soaked.

Gambit navigated the tunnels of Sinister's underground hideout with ease, not really paying attention to his surroundings. The combination of his thieves training and spatial awareness made it possible to navigate the entirety of the base both blindfolded and half asleep. Or in this case, while suffering from the onsets of shock.

A door opened automatically and Remy passed through, his body still on autopilot. He brushed past the Marauders and went straight to Sinister, ignoring Grey Crow's query as to what was wrong. It was hard, so hard not to let the tears escape, but Gambit did not cry.

He set the image inducer on the table next to the computer banks before looking up at Sinister's face. Almost immediately, he looked back down. "I," Remy began only to have his voice trail off. He didn't know what to say. "I'm just going to grab a shower." The thief abruptly turned on his heel, exiting the room on his way back to his own quarters.

Remy stripped off his wet clothes as he entered, turning the water on as hot it would go. The streams scalded his skin, but he didn't care. He needed to get out of here. He needed to be back in control. For Christ's sake, had it really been that hard to get his name engraved on the stone? Even the simpler Gambit would have worked.

Truth be told, the thief wasn't that surprised when he left the small bathroom in a clean outfit to find Sinister waiting for him. The look on the geneticist's face was a mystery though. The expression was one Remy had never seen before, and couldn't even hope to interpret.

"Remiel?" he asked softly.

It was the voice that did it. That odd hint of concern, so unusual to the other's makeup. Gambit look a long shuddering breath, and a single tear ran down his cheek. It was quickly followed by another. Soon enough, for the first time that Remy could remember, he was sobbing.

He didn't even notice when Sinister approached, until the scientist placed a single hand on the thief's shoulder. For a moment, Gambit went stiff as a board. Then he turned, instinctively burying his face in the older man's chest.

Remy wasn't certain how long he cried, the older man's deep voice murmuring meaningless words into his ears. Only that when he recovered Essex was sitting on his bed, the thief practically cradled in his lap. A faint blush made its way up Gambit's face. Merde, this was embarrassing. Quickly, the thief extradited himself from the other's comforting grasp, trying to look anywhere but at Sinister.

"Why?" Gambit asked at last. He wasn't quite sure what he was asking. Why had Essex saved him from the ice? Why had he come after him? What possible reason had the geneticist had to hold him as he cried?

There was a moment of silence before Sinister sighed, reaching out to brush a stray bit of hair from Remy's eyes. "Because," he answered. "For the first time since he was taken from me, my son turned to me for comfort." The geneticist paused. "And I found I could not turn him away." He leaned forward, chastely kissing the younger man on the forehead before turning and leaving the room.

Gambit just stared at the door the scientist had closed behind him in the stunned stupor. He sat there for hours, just thinking, allowing the information to sink in. Sinister was his Father?! Sure, the other could have been lying, but Remy doubted it. There was no reason to make such a claim if it were not true, at least not right now. Besides, Essex hadn't been gloating. Sinister always gloated when he thought he had the advantage.

Finally though, Gambit got up, running his fingers through his still wet hair to tame it. He needed answers, and there was only one person who had them. Sinister would probably be in his lab, he almost always was.

The geneticist was alone, which suited Remy just fine. He didn't need an audience for this. "Got a minute?" he inquired, leaning against a nearby wall.

A pair of red eyes flicked to the younger man before returning to the screen. "I am not terribly busy."

"I was wonderin'," Remy said at last. "About what you said before."

"Curious about your heritage?" Sinister asked.

Jerkily, the thief nodded. All his life he had wondered where he had come from, and now it seemed he was going to find out. He wasn't quite sure just what to ask first. Somewhat thankfully, Sinister took care of that for him.

"Apocalypse was the one who arranged your kidnapping. Alerted the Guilds to the location of a child who fit the description in their prophecy. The hospital you were told you were stolen from was actually one of my labs," he replied in a tone that sounded slightly bored, relaying the facts. "You have no mother. You were grown in a gestation chamber. A genetic clone of my base human DNA modified with the energy conversion potential harvested from the genes of Scott Summers."

Remy remained silent a moment, digesting that. He just had one more question. "Do you regret it?" he questioned, not elaborating on what precisely Sinister was supposed to be regretting. They both already knew.

The scientist reached out to shut off the computer, turning to face his son. "No."

A pair of red on black eyes flicked in acknowledgement, and Remy straightened. "Goin' out for a bit," he announced. "Be back in a few hours."

"Oh?" Sinister inquired.

Gambit shrugged. "Need to go shopping." His wardrobe was extremely lacking currently. If it wasn't for the fact Essex had kept his clothes from last time he would probably be walking around in surgical scrubs.

"Will you be paying for these clothes?" The question was a logical one, given Remy's profession. Besides, it was better than asking if he needed money.

Gambit grinned as he looked back over his shoulder, "Thought maybe I'd try my hand at maxing out Daddy's credit cards."

The doctor glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. At that moment, it was easy to see the resemblance. A smirk so like his own was mirrored there. "I suppose that means you've already found them." It wasn't a no, which meant Sinister was giving his permission.

Remy lifted his hand and gave the man a two fingered salute, and left his father to his work, genuinely pleased at the idea of spending his long lost daddy's money. Mostly because of the long lost daddy part. Sure, the man was a monster. But his son was the devil's own.

_I should be in bed, swears_

_But I just had to finish this_


End file.
